


Writing on the Wall

by running_with_stars



Series: Under Darkness (Ugly Flowers Bloom) [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Aromantic Kim Seungmin, Asexual Yang Jeongin, Be Gay! Do Crime! Stop Crime!, Bisexual Bang Chan, Bisexual Lee Felix (Stray Kids), Bisexual Lee Minho, Crime Fighting, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Han Jisung, Gay Seo Changbin, Heist, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know this is so impulsive I'm making shit up as I go, I said what I said!, Kinda? that's the backbone of this story anyway, Listen they fight crime but they also ARE the crime, M/M, No Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Hwang Hyunjin, Robbery, Robin Hood References, Tags May Change, Team as Family, They fight capitalism so really I think they should get all the rights, Vigilantism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/running_with_stars/pseuds/running_with_stars
Summary: Behind every badge is a person, a heart, a soul. Behindtheirbadges lay wicked smiles and intricate plans that run deep into the soil.It's a game they've played for years: Empty safes, ransack mansions, divvy up the goods amongst those who need it, pretend they're on the hunt for the "ruthless criminals who can pick any lock." Keep the public entertained. Let the kids feel safe.Let the rich fear for their lives.-Based on the All In MV!
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Undisclosed Relationship(s)
Series: Under Darkness (Ugly Flowers Bloom) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024524
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yeah . . . man I dunno

It had started as a joke. Every monumental thing always does. 

"Why don't we start pulling these jobs? At least _we'd_ get away with it."

It had slipped under their radar for a few weeks before there were wide, sparkling eyes looking at him with conviction; there was a keen gaze and a secret smile waiting for the instructions he hadn't thought he'd need to give. 

Small. A joke. It had been nothing but an unfortunate mess of words he'd let slip without thinking. 

But now they were here, and there was nothing but the next job, the next press conference, the next lie. 

There was nothing but them, and the promise they'd made not only to each other, but to everyone who'd come to rely on them. 

What a mess he'd made. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat!](https://curiouscat.qa/ahgaslayy)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/svnsmayday)


	2. Chapter 2

The colour of the room was near-sickly, just off from green and not close enough to brown. Fluorescent lighting through everything into skewed shadows, frowns too deep and eyes infinitely bright. The suspects had a hard time with it, sure, but that didn’t make it any easier on the person trying to squeeze answers out of them.

But the infamous Detective Bang was nothing if not professional, so he forced his movements to be effortless as he placed his chin in his palms, despite the headache blooming at his temples.

“They won’t protect you.”

The presence at his right radiated heat, though Chan had taken the time to tailor himself to it. Breathe it into his lungs and hold it there. Let it out only when it burned white-hot. The suspect at the other end of the table had had no chance to grow used to it.

Still, he remained silent, warily eyeing Chan’s partner. Good.

“And you know they won’t come save you when you wind up in jail.”

Silence. If he’d been any younger, Chan would have grown frustrated—but now, this was a dance his body knew well, even if he sometimes did not have the heart to follow the steps.

The inferno at his side opened its glowing maw. “What would your family do without their protection?”

The suspect— _don’t give him a name, don’t do that to yourself_ —lost all colour in his face. “No.”

Embers landed on the desk with each word his partner spoke. “You refuse to help us, you go to jail. What happens there? You become a liability for the mob. They kick your family to the curb. It’ll be a contest to see which of you can die the fastest.”

Chan patted himself on the back for aligning himself with such a powerhouse. “We’ll make sure to give that necklace back to your little girl when your body’s dragged out of your cell.”

The heat at his right wavered. Chan almost heard his voice in his head. _Don’t take risks when you don’t have to_.

Risks were the only way to get things done.

And, if the way the suspect slumped back in his seat was any indication, it had been worth it.

“So,” Chan sighed, “will you tell us what we want to know?”

The suspect gave a dejected nod. Chan could imagine the conflicted face behind the glass, and made a note to check in Jisung later. He didn’t think twice before rising in a fluid motion, making sure his hand only shook when he closed the door behind him and his partner.

And oh, what an impressive glare that partner had for him.

Changbin Seo was malleable like warm taffy on the inside, though it didn’t help that he was wrapped up in corded muscle and stern eyes. He breathed fire, according to the rookies downstairs, with Chan acting as the wind beneath his wings. The Dragon and the Gale.

Right now, the Dragon was more than a little mad.

“What the fuck was that?”

Chan kept his eyes wide and his shoulders lax as an officer slid into the interrogation room behind him. Where had Jisung gone? “What do you mean?”

They’d attracted a couple pairs of eyes, and because Changbin was not going to be done anytime soon—it was written clear as day in the curl of his lips—Chan made the executive decision to beckon Changbin into an empty interrogation room. Clearly upset at having his rant moved, Changbin crossed his arms and hardened his eyes in a way that only endeared Chan.

“You could have fucked it up.”

Chan smiled around the bite of pain in his ribs. “I’ve been at this for a while now, Bin. The chain was something you’d find in a little girl’s jewellery box—the skin at his neck was a little green, so it was cheap as fuck to make, but we’ve never seen a shot of him with it off. It could have been the wife’s but it’s unlikely that she would own something like that, especially when her husband makes that kind of money.” He stared at the tips of his shoes, gleaming leather in the shitty lighting hanging above their heads. “It was probably more sentimental than he realized. A cheap piece of jewellery while he ran from the power-hungry bastards in the streets.”

“Chan.”

“I’m serious. I’ve considered all of it since we started this case.” Not that they’d _closed_ the case, but they were nearing the finish line. “And I figured, if I’m wrong, he gets pissed at me—but _you_ , ’Bin, could play into his anger, curse at me, say I never knew how to talk to witnesses anyway. You’re good at thinking on your feet.” He cracked a smile, feeling his chest loosen. “You know I trust you.”

Changbin’s shoulders drooped, though it was clear how unoffended he was. “You can’t just compliment me and make it all go away.”

Chan felt his smile hitch awkwardly at the edges. “Make what go away?”

“There was a wireless mic lodged into the guy’s _cheek_ ,” Changbin said, somber. “I only got word of it the second the guy walked into the building.”

A million scenarios ran through his head—windows breaking, screaming, blood splattering like the dainty flick of an artist’s finest brush. But—

“Minho,” Chain said around the itch in his throat, “I thought he—”

“Of course he disabled the thing,” Changbin grouched, like Chan’s moment’s hesitation was some plague on his afternoon. “What do you take us for?”

“Pains in my ass?”

“ _Harty har_. My point is, Chan, that we were one wrong step away from having you put at risk.”

“Me?” Chan leaned his hip against the chair beside him.

The speakers crackled right before— “If you die, boss, we’re all on a fast-track to hell.”

Changbin kept his lips clamped shut as he murmured, “We’re on a fast-track to hell _anyway_.”

Chan had a different problem. “Stop calling me boss!”

There was a cackle before a series of doors opened and closed, revealing Jisung Han a moment later in all his sparkly-eyed glory. “Hi.”

Chan was left to wonder, not for the first time, how this man had found his way to a detective’s badge. Though, to be fair, Chan didn’t really deserve his either.

But that was for later. “He confess yet?”

Jisung’s head bobbed in a nod, though Chan saw the way his lips begged to twitch down into a frown. “He seemed less than happy about it, but everything he said checks out so far. He says he doesn’t know anything about the mic we found on him, only that he let them operate on him with the promise of sending more money to his family.”

This time, Jisung did frown. That, Chan could understand—how easily any of them would have been manipulated if money was promised to someone they loved.

But that was not how they had come to know each other. No, their luck had either been too good or not good enough. Chan’s heart kicked, seeing Jisung so torn, but for now there was no time for anything other than the case. “Can we get it to Jeongin at all?”

Changbin was the one to arch a brow at him. “We already give _way_ too much leeway to a rookie, and now you want to give him access to crucial evidence? It’s like you’re _trying_ to get kicked off the force.”

He was right, and Chan knew it. But they three also knew that the “rookie” was their best shot at getting answers.

“Fine,” Chan said placatingly. “I’ll have IT look into it. It’s what they’re there for, right?”

He wondered how many of their conversations within the precinct were for show.

“We should probably get out of here,” Jisung said. “People already think we’re fucking. Let’s not make it worse.”

Changbin scoffed, opening the door. “You should be so lucky.”

As he passed, Jisung braced a warm palm against Changbin’s jaw, offering up a cheesy wink. “I’ll count my blessings then.”

“Right,” Chan muttered, “totally not fucking.”

Jisung tossed a sultry grin over his shoulder, more for the eyes watching than anything else. “Jealous, Detective?”

Ignoring the warmth low in his gut at how the light caught in Jisung’s eyes, Chan made his way to the stairwell. They were going to kill him, one day, whether it was the stress they caused or how big his heart had grown to accommodate them all.

“Bang!”

Chan knew that voice was well as he knew Changbin’s put-out scowl and Jisung’s star-bright smile.

“Minho.”

Minho Lee, head of IT and dressed almost to the nines in his sharp ebony tie and crisp ivory dress shirt, scowled at him. “So much for professionalism.”

Chan couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not allowed to use your given name?”

“I’m not going to entertain you by answering that question.” Minho dropped his voice. Chan was all too focused on how stiffly he held his left arm. “I need Jeongin to take a look at the mic. Chip. Whatever the fuck.”

Chan _had_ been thinking the exact same thing, but the last time he’d seen Minho, they were ducking from gunfire and covered in what was likely half-prepped corn syrup, so he couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “I thought I could have just given it to you.”

Minho glared. It was the normalcy of his behaviour that made Chan smile even wider. “Funny. You know I’m the software guy. You want shit done about this mic, you have to give it to Jeongin. Besides, word is it’s still lodged in the bastard’s _cheek._ ”

“Well,” Chan started, dropping a touch of severity into his cheery tone, “then you better make sure you have a look at it before it’s processed.”

Minho’s brows jumped, clearly amused, before he stalked off to strike up a conversation with Jisung. Chan continued his journey downstairs.

The silence of the stairwell was calming and poisonous in equal measure—it left his thoughts barren before him, but it was the nature of those thoughts that made him wish he had anything else to focus on. Jisung’s panicked cursing, Minho’s shirt drenched in blood—the only time he’d even _thought_ to come out with them, and it had nearly gotten him killed.

 _They knew what they were signing up for_ , a voice hissed as he threw open the door to the second floor.

 _But that doesn’t mean they get to die under my watch_ , he thought. _They_ can’t _die under my watch_.

And yet, here he was, making his way over to the youngest officer at the precinct, making a coyly worded command that would keep their images intact and their plans in motion.

It was always about the plans, these days. It was a miracle they hadn’t gotten caught.

Chan approached the desk in the corner of the room like he was simply a high-ranking detective and not the country’s most nefarious criminal mastermind.

“Officer Yang.”

Jeongin Yang perked up at Chan’s call, eyes crinkling just a touch before his face settled into a professionalism that would have made Minho crack a smirk. “Detective Bang. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to pull up any information you have on the device we found implanted in the suspect. Blueprints, concepts, articles. Anything to make picking it apart easier once we remove it from the suspect.” He planted his hands on the desk, menacing to everyone save the man he was supposedly intimidating. “I expect you to work through the night.”

“But, sir,” Jeongin spluttered, the perfect picture of a reluctant subordinate, “I told my girlfriend I’d—”

“You’re telling me you care more about getting your dick wet than your job?”

He regretted it the moment the words came out of his mouth, but Jeongin took it in stride, nearly knocking his head against his desk as be bowed, spitting out apology after apology.

Chan sighed, shoving his guilt into the breath before straightening up. “Enough. Just get the work done. I’ll be checking in on you before I clock out.”

As he made his way back to the doors, he made a pit stop. “Officer Lee.”

He had to force too much bite into his voice for it to fall genuinely in the air, but it did its job; Felix Lee was tearing his gaze up from his mountains of paperwork with adorably wide eyes. Chan bit back his heart’s flutter of affection.

“I’ve made some headway on the Gideun case. I was hoping you’d offer it a pair of fresh eyes, make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

It wasn’t the Gideun case, and Chan didn’t need Felix to spot-check his work. He just needed to share with Felix the progress he’d made on the case. For the past few hours, Chan had been staring at crime scene photos. He’d learned what it was like to see eyes like Felix’s drained of life, that ruddy brown of his hair matted with blood.

Chan left the room before he threw up, only vaguely aware that Felix had responded.

This case was going to kill him. This game they were playing was going to get them all killed.

Returning to his desk, Chan let out a sigh that weighed much too heavily in his nose. He heard two people behind him muttering. Only at a certain name did he start paying attention.

_Taewoo Im._

Chan twisted around in his seat, glaring at the detectives behind him. Never had he been so glad for his reputation. “What about Taewoo Im?”

The woman on the left blinked spooked eyes at him. “Sorry, Bang, we weren’t trying to disturb you—”

“I didn’t ask you to pipe down,” Chan said evenly, “I asked you to clarify. _What about Taewoo Im?”_

“He’s making some announcement tonight,” the man on the right told him. “Opening up a hospital in a district closer to the south of the city.”

Chan felt his chest crack apart to reveal white-hot lava roiling beneath the surface. “But there’s no room to make a proper hospital there. Not without—”

 _Demolishing parts of the neighbourhood_.

He didn’t have to check to see the three pairs of eyes trained on him. He knew what they were thinking, because it was the very same thought he had.

This game could get them killed, but when the player on the other side of the board was someone like Taewoo Im, they were willing to write out their moves in blood.

“Lee, Seo, Han.”

He spun back around, feeling a leaden heat settle onto his bones. He made sure his voice was open in the way a Venus Fly Trap was: gorgeous, intriguing, deadly.

“I think I’ll be needing your help tonight.”

He got three nods, and Chan knew that he would get four other nods if they’d all been together.

But that was later.

All the best moves were always made _later_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat!](https://curiouscat.qa/ahgaslayy)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/svnsmayday)


	3. Chapter 3

“You know, Kim, you have it easier than the rest of us.”

 _Don’t give it attention_ , he told himself. _It’s just like school. Or a bee. If you leave_ it _alone, it will leave_ you _alone._

That little mantra had lost its kick the third time he’d had to use it.

“Oh, don’t make that face. You know it’s true. It’s not like Yubil Kim’s wealth is a secret to this country.”

Head down. Mouth shut. 

“Seungmin.”

 _Seungmin Kim_. Some people said his name with disgust. Others with reverence and awe. None of them with any sort of respect.

But Chan, it seemed, was different. There was nothing but honesty in his tone, and it was that candor that made Seungmin finally lift his head.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Seungmin had the briefest impulse to say no—dig in his heels and show the detectives behind him that he was just as good a worker. Just as honest, just as diligent.

But Chan didn’t deserve his temper tantrums, so Seungmin rose from his seat and followed after him until they reached Chan’s desk.

“What do you know about this bullshit Taewoo’s pulling?”

Seungmin couldn’t help the flicker of disappointment sitting heavy in his chest. He’d thought Chan needed him for advice, or a second opinion, not—not _this_. Again.

“I thought you used Felix for this stuff.”

Chan cringed at his wording, but it was true: there came certain times where Chan put them to _use_.

Like right now.

“Listen, Chan, I don’t know everything about the world my brother lives in. You know that. I’m here, solving murders and things, while he’s off arranging his monopoly.”

Chan’s eyes glittered darkly, little orbs of obsidian sucking in the light and letting it die. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

Seungmin sighed. This wasn’t the first time they’d picked this fight, and on his grandparents’ ashes, it would not be the last. “Did you actually need me for anything?”

Chan softened immediately. His eyes lit up once more. “I’m sorry, Min. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Seungmin just blinked at him. When it was clear Chan’s guilt was going to eat him out like a ravenous worm in an apple, he said, “It’s fine. Better you than the other jackasses here.”

Which wasn’t much of a reassurance.

“To answer your question,” Chan said kindly, “I _did_ need your help. Do, actually.” He pointed at the transcripts pulled up on his screen, spreadsheets and call logs and—

“How does your head not hurt, looking at this?”

“I live in a constant pain, if that makes any difference.”

Seungmin frowned at him, though Chan’s awkward grin was much too contagious.

“So, what do you need?”

“This is every interaction made with Jung’s family over the past five years.”

 _And here come he headaches,_ Seungmin thought sadly. _But . . ._

“Watching you work is amazing,” Chan sighed, just a little happy.

Seungmin couldn’t fight the pleased warmth in his cheeks as he flipped over patterns and numbers in his mind. “It’s nothing special . . .”

Chan shook his head. “It is. You are.”

Seungmin ducked his head and wiped the stupid grin off his face. When he lifted his head, he was once more seeing trends jump out from the screen. That one phone number—called at regular intervals. Corresponding with . . .

“What are these?” he asked, pointing at a series of payments on the screen.

“That’s all we could pull on the Life Way CPO’s bank records,” Chan explained. “But it’s too . . .”

“Neat?” Seungmin offered.

“That sounds ridiculous, but yeah.”

Seungmin straightened, mulling over what he’d seen and picking it apart like an overeager child with a cloud of cotton candy. “I’ll talk to Minho,” he said. “He’ll get me what I need. See if there’s any connection to the calls they’re making and the money wired into Jung’s family’s accounts.”

“Seungmin . . .” Chan lips quirked into a tentative smile, fixing his cuffs and showing Seungmin the briefest flash of silver. Seungmin’s heart tumbled around in his chest, elated. “Thanks.”

He made sure to keep his voice even when he next spoke. “It’s the job, boss.”

Chan’s ragged groan was the perfect soundtrack to Seungmin’s departure.

When Seungmin returned to his desk, he was reminded that he was not _Seungmin Kim_ , but something else. Someone more.

Every twitch Chan made within the walls of the precinct was intentional. Adjusting his cuffs to show that little chain around his wrist—

They made a move.

Tonight.

Seungmin traced the pattern of familiar letters into the wood of his desk, stamping down his giddiness.

o.O.o

The city was a beast, roaring into the night with a deafening lull. A million eyes glittered in red and gold, scales of neon rainbow and rain-soaked asphalt. The stars pulsed and flickered as if in response to the beast’s cry, most barely visible through the mess of the city’s breath.

How he missed the countryside, where the stars were in the millions and all of them seemed attainable. He’d tried to swipe his hands through the impossibly large sky when he was younger, to capture the stars and have his own little piece of heaven. Instead he had gone after fireflies, which he’d affectionately called Star Bugs, and held them in his palm for a precious hitch in time. He’d stolen heaven, then, with stars in his palms and an untameable hope in his heart.

“Seungmin.”

The stars were his no longer. He had become a beast in his own right, with hackles raised and fangs bared, blood sweet and angry on his tongue.

“Let him have his daydreams,” Minho called.

Seungmin pushed off the wall with a huff, walking away from the window and settling back into his seat.

One of Minho’s neat brows jumped. “City air getting to you?”

It was, actually, but the only thing worse than being homesick was admitting that Minho Lee was _right_ about something. Seungmin’s only response was to scroll back through the spreadsheet in front of him.

A window groaned somewhere to their right. Seungmin sighed. “We really have to get that fixed.”

“Ah,” Minho cheered, jarringly unenthusiastic in his ignoring Seungmin, “the fantabulous Hyunjin Hwang _finally_ makes his appearance.”

Hyunjin’s nose twitched, mouth bent in indignance. “I was working.”

A bag slung over his shoulder and light, all-black clothes—

He _had_ been working.

Seungmin cocked his head. “Anything worthwhile?”

“Felix was right to say that Life Way shucks all of its responsibility onto its newer employees.” Hyunjin hoisted the bag onto the table. “Where’s Chan?”

“Here! I’m here.”

When Chan wasn’t stone-faced or calculating the most efficient move, he was oddly . . . _bright_. It was difficult not to think of him as some sort of odd creature, watching him smile as he approached a table full of evidence that could put them all away for several lifetimes.

What did that make Seungmin, for having so eagerly joined him?

 _Well,_ he reasoned, _at least my move to the city was anything but boring._

Hyunjin overturned the bag, revealing files and USBs, the occasional watch among them. Jisung peered at the table from behind Chan, hooking his nose onto Chan’s shoulder as his clever eyes soaked in every detail. Seungmin knew his own surprise showed on his face.

Chan ghosted his fingers along the table, sure to touch the contents as little as possible. “These are the watches all the employees have.”

Hyunjin nodded. “One was on his wrist. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something inside the watches themselves.”

Seungmin had the fleeting thought that Hyunjin must have been in danger to have seen the man’s wrist, but Hyunjin was nothing if not good at what he did. If he was standing here in front of them all with a laxness in his shoulders and curious tilt to his head, it meant that all had gone well.

Minho had no reservation about picking up one of the watches and playing with it. “You don’t think that would mess with the mechanism?”

Hyunjin’s face was expectant. Minho stared at the watch for a couple more seconds before he glared. “Oh.”

Seungmin peeked over his shoulder to see that the clock hands didn’t move. Curiosity satiated, he asked, “Where’s Jeongin? He’ll lose his mind when he sees these.”

Seungmin looked around, waiting to spot the youngest member of their . . . whatever they were, only to see that Jeongin was nowhere to be found.

“He’s out with Felix and Changbin,” Hyunjin explained. “Chan sent them ahead.”

Chan nodded, finally picking up one of the thicker files from the table. “I wanted to see what he could learn about Taewoo’s plans before we moved in.”

Minho’s eyes flashed, the most serious Seungmin had seen him all evening. “Why didn’t you send me with them?”

“Because until we get there,” Chan said carefully, “there is a _very_ low chance they’ll be caught on camera.”

“We don’t operate on _low_ risk,” Minho ground out. “It’s no risk or no moves. That’s the deal we made.”

“They have their masks if they need them.”

Minho was nowhere close to finished, what with the way his knuckles were turning a furious white, but Jisung swiped a watch from the table before he could say much. Having effectively distracted the group, he slid the watch onto Chan’s wrist, who only stared at the accessory with a crinkle in his brow.

Jisung did nothing else with the watch. The group visibly deflated, and Chan moved to take off the watch, but Jisung put a hand on his wrist, shaking of his head. Chan, ever patient with the group of hooligans he worked with, lowered his wrist with an arched brow in Minho’s direction.

“They’re fine to wear,” Minho assured, though his tone implied more threat than safety. “Hyunjin’s bag has an EMP machine sewn into the seams.”

Hyunjin gave an appreciative hum as he drew his finger along the edge of that same bag. “All wrapped up in a custom deadener. Consider me amazed with your and Jeongin’s feat of engineering.”

“The kid’s got steady hands,” Minho said. “Thank those instead.” He turned an accusatory glare on Chan. “And, if we’re so lucky, those hands will come to us _safely_.”

­Chan’s jaw twitched for half a breath before his expression was overtaken with a flicker of guilt. “You sound worried for him,” was all he said.

“If a single card in this fucked-up tower is pulled,” Minho grumbled, “we all fall. I want him back here safely because that means _I’m_ safe.”

He was selling himself short, Seungmin thought, but he didn’t have the energy to contest Minho.

“I would never send them in if I thought they were in danger.”

It was as simple a truth as they could allow themselves.

“Regardless,” Chan said, “we’re leaving now.”

Hyunjin sniffed. “What are the chances I can sit this one out?”

“Zero.”

With the casual way he shrugged, Seungmin knew Hyunjin hadn’t been at all serious about skipping out tonight.

As they readied themselves to leave, using a different exit for each of them and never at the same time, Seungmin wondered what sort of task needed their marksman, demolitions expert, _and_ their informant.

Seungmin nearly fell out of the creaky window when he realized.

Oh, how he missed the countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat!](https://curiouscat.qa/ahgaslayy)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/svnsmayday)


	4. Chapter 4

On the list of all the ways Jeongin thought his life would go, this wasn’t even near the bottom. It wasn’t on the list at all. And yet, here he was, planting small explosives in the ground to stop the construction of a hospital where there was no room to build one.

At first the plan had seemed a little counterproductive and a lot ridiculous. He couldn’t understand why they were defending a plot of land by _blowing it up_ , but Chan had only given him a shocked smile and said, “We’re not going to light them up, ’Innie. But when the crew comes across bombs in the ground, they’ll have to stop. That’ll give us time to dismantle the project the right way.”

Jeongin was always amazed by him. A brilliant mind lived behind dimpled smiles and quirky laughs, and it had yet to be used for nefarious deeds.

He hoped it would remain that way, because then Jeongin will have well and truly thrown away his dreams for nothing.

His hands were all too steady, placing dead wires into the small holes they’d dug out an hour prior. They didn’t bother with lights—they were in great enough danger as it was—but that didn’t affect the stability of his hands.

If he closed his eyes and let his mind go quiet, he could pretend; hands out in front of him, carefully stitching what was in front of him. A steady chorus of machines in the background.

But then his fingers brushed the soil and his illusion shattered. He was a cop and a criminal, now. He was nowhere near where he had wanted to be at this point on his life.

Still, it was better than the alternative.

As he buried the last explosive, he thought to himself that it was perfectly poetic that he try to decimate the plans for a hospital.

“Are you waiting to turn into a tree? Get moving, kid.”

Jeongin had long since grown used to a sudden voice in his ear, but that didn’t mean he appreciated the comment. “Don’t make me blow shit up just to spite you.”

Changbin snorted, and Jeongin had to bite down a pleased smile. “I’d love to see you explain that to Chan. ‘Yeah, sorry boss, but I decided to fight words with fire.’”

“Maybe I’ll burn that smug grin off your face.”

That very same grin was audible when Changbin next spoke. “You’d miss it.”

Jeongin wanted to say something fondly terrible, or terribly fond, but Felix’s voice was the next to reach his ears. “I think we should just get off the lot before someone sees us.”

“For someone to see us,” Changbin started in the tone of an instructor, “the lights would need to turn on.”

“You did not just insinuate we’re faster than the speed of light.”

“We’ve done more impressive things.”

“Luckily,” Jeongin cut in, “we won’t have to find out. I’m done.”

Changbin made a noise in his throat. “Good. Get out of there.”

 _Ah,_ Jeongin thought, _so he was worried after all_.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for one, or even all of them to worry for his wellbeing. He was the least experienced, and the youngest. But, at the same time, he was the only one who could lace their coffees with a toxic substance with none of them knowing.

He had to admit, it was nice. The whole having-people-worry-about-you thing. It reminded him of a full-lipped smile and bags of chips that were half air. It reminded him of—

Well, that didn’t matter now.

Soon he was working his way up the scaffolding to meet up with Changbin and Felix, both of whom were perched on the ledge and looking down on the lot he’d just been standing on.

“Behind you.”

Felix jumped, offering up a kind smile that practically shone. There was a small cut on his nose—had he gotten into trouble, getting them in here? Changbin just waved, returning the hand to his rifle a moment later.

Jeongin dropped his head back. “This is my life . . .”

“Throw your pity party later, kid.” Changbin tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Everyone’s here.”

He hadn’t meant to be here. Not in this city, not in this district, and certainly not on the scaffolding erected for a hospital he’d just had a direct hand in destroying.

But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to like it.

o.O.o

Minho was something of a Cheshire cat, all petite features and a grin larger than life. Jeongin had found himself in some sort of Wonderland at the precinct, both guided along and haunted by that same grin. Right now, in a dark corner of the city where caterpillars might just live in flowers, he found comfort in the sharpness of his smile.

And, if Minho was the Cheshire cat, Jeongin had become too much like him to be any sort of Alice.

“You know, you could learn to do this yourself.”

Jeongin eyed the green text flying by on the screen, mouth twisting into a grimace. “I’ll stick to bombs.”

Stuck in the early stages of development as the hospital was, there was only a makeshift office sat on the northern edge of the lot. There were three workers stationed there at all times: one whose skillset lay in construction, and two employees of Taewoo Im. Never more, never less. While Felix and Seungmin worked to distract those three, Hyunjin—and Jisung, if needed—would sneak into the building through one of the windows in the back.

Minho clicked his tongue. “What is taking him so long?”

“The USB might just be faulty,” Jeongin offered.

When Minho turned to glare at him, Jeongin was very quickly reminded that years on the force had given Minho several ideas on how to dispose of a body.

“Or, you know, Felix and Seungmin are having a harder time than we planned. Not like it hasn’t happened before.”

Minho’s eyes flickered at that, though Jeongin didn’t get to see just what it was in time: the screen lit up with a message.

**(Step 1/3)  
Retrieving data  
Estimated time: 5min  
Time elapsed: 2sec**

Waiting like this, with everyone else so close and so far, had become natural over time. Handing over casefiles that they couldn’t grab too eagerly, sending messages and commands through the proper channels, weaving cover stories that allowed room for error—Jeongin was good at it all. Theirs was a system of intricacy and security, and one that couldn’t function without all of its cogs in the right place.

Jeongin bent his head to look at the insignia on Minho’s laptop: a wispy cloud bent into the shape of wings.

 _Sky-Traveller_. That was the alias Minho had used before joining the force. Jeongin wasn’t too sure of the details of Minho’s past, but he knew that the moniker was more than an anonymity issue. There was a heaviness to the way Minho said the name, one that couldn’t be created from anything other than pain. 

“Did you want the decal?”

Jeongin huffed. “I wouldn’t be able to pull it off half as well.”

“You flatter me.”

“You scare people away when they wanna know what it means,” Jeongin explained. “I don’t have the energy for that.”

“You young’uns are all lazy,” Minho bemoaned.

“Okay, Boomer.”

Jeongin had to hold back a laugh when Minho glared at him again. “Why is it that your English is limited to _insults?_ You shouldn’t be spending enough time online to _know what that means._ ”

“What can I say, I’m special.”

Before Minho could say something about _that_ , Jeongin pointed at the screen. “Look.”

**(Step 2/3)  
Transferring data  
Estimated time: 10min  
Time elapsed: 5sec**

“Ten minutes . . .” Minho frowned. “It shouldn’t take that long.”

“You think that’ll come back to bite us in the ass soon?”

Minho sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked years younger and older all at once. “Hopefully not.”

“Do we have a plan if it does?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Jeongin sunk lower in his seat, now carefully watching the stream of data. “Assuming we have a bridge to cross.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat!](https://curiouscat.qa/ahgaslayy)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/svnsmayday)


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